


Everyone's a Critic: The Sequel

by Snooky



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooky/pseuds/Snooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true heroes gather to celebrate their colonel's retirement and to watch their "favorite" television program. For the 2015 Short story speedwriting challenge on fanfiction.net. The challenge was to use one or more of the given lines in your story. The lines were taken from movies and television. Donors contributed money for each posted story to various charities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone's a Critic: The Sequel

Title: Everyone's A Critic: The Sequel  
Category: TV Shows » Hogan's Heroes  
Author: snooky-9093  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K  
Genre: Parody/Humor  
Published: 06-06-15, Updated: 06-06-15  
Chapters: 1, Words: 2,324  
Chapter 1: Chapter 1  
.

Everyone's a Critic: The Sequel

(the first part was originally posted in 2012)

Sunday, January 24, 1971

an undisclosed location in the United States

The former United States Air Force colonel, and soon-to-be former commercial airline pilot, padded around his finished basement setting out snacks, and readying the bar. He was expecting company, men who had served under him in a German POW camp during the war.

His core group was scattered all over the world. His former radioman, now a successful business owner, lived in Chicago. The explosives expert was a chemistry professor at a prestigious university in California, while his "Outside Man" still worked for the government. What the Outside Man did was a mystery, and no one ever asked.

Two Europeans, the French chef and the British pub owner/entertainer, had flown across the Atlantic for this get-together. It was a special day; the colonel was retiring.

"Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me. Twice on the pipe…"

Two bangs on the side of the bookshelf. "'If the answer is no…oh..oh…' Ouch." He shook his hand. "I really should get a drum set."

"Everything all right down there?" The colonel's wife came down several steps. "I thought I heard a cat in heat."

"No, dear. Just can't get that song out of my head," he answered, ignoring her insult. However, the criticism broke his train of thought. He began to mutter to himself as he dusted off his model planes and the photos lining the bookshelves.

And it started again.

"I beg your pardon. I never promised you a rose garden."

His wife yelled down again. "If you don't stop singing, the neighbors may call the police!"

The colonel headed up the stairs. His wife of almost 40 years stood working at the kitchen counter. He quietly snuck up on her, an easy thing to do after years of practice in Germany, and stopped. She was humming one of the hit songs as well.

"Aha! Don't blame me for singing out of tune. You are a black magic woman." He kissed her on the neck.

She turned and laughed. "Here, you can take this downstairs. And no munching. Leave it for your guests."

The guests were all staying at the same hotel, and they arrived together in a rented Lincoln Continental.

The Frenchman was already grousing. "Why do I always have to sit in the middle of the front seat?"

"Because you're the smallest," explained the radioman patiently.

"It's not easy at my age to squeeze in there. He should have done it. He's the youngest," the Frenchman complained, pointing at the professor.

"My knees would be up to my ears, and I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Enough complaining. Let's put on some happy faces for the guv-nor." The Brit rang the doorbell.

"Boys!" The colonel's wife welcomed the group as enthusiastically as ever. She was very fond of her husband's men…all of them, but their get-togethers over the years had endeared this group to her. They were family.

"Mary!" They all spoke at once, giving hugs and kisses. "How are the kids, the grandkids?" When assured everyone was fine, they looked around at a house decorated with banners and cards.

"He's downstairs making final preparations. All the food is down there," she said.

"Hey guys!" As the years passed by, the relationship within this group became more informal. The colonel and his men spent the next half-hour eating, catching up, reminiscing and looking at the inevitable photos of children and grandchildren.

"It's almost time, honey," his wife reminded him as she cleared away some plates.

"Thanks, Mary." He turned on the TV, which was already set to the local CBS channel, and waited for it to warm up. He adjusted the antenna and walked back to the sofa, where he grabbed his glass from the end table. "A toast. To those brave men no longer with us. And also to the Kommandant and his sergeant of the guard. Without their humanity, we probably wouldn't have survived that horrible business. We understand why they couldn't be here today, and hope their remaining years are happy and healthy ones."

They all raised their glasses.

"We're getting a picture," said the radioman. "Aw, not Lassie. I hate that show. Always makes me cry."

"Only a few minutes more," said the colonel.

"I hope this episode is better than the last one." The Outside Man grabbed a fistful of M&M's and plopped them in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he added, "Actually, I hope I'm in this one. Is it too much to ask?"

"Probably," answered the Brit. "You were just in the one a few weeks ago."

"No I wasn't. That was the same actor but a different character," the Outside Man insisted. "It's been over two years since my last appearance. The one with that reporter."

"I hated that episode. I was too nervous. And no reporter would have been that stupid…on the pain of death, that is. Did I tell you I saw your actor on two Star Treks?" the colonel mentioned.

"Yes, constantly," the Outside Man replied quietly. He knew what was coming, but he didn't bother stopping the colonel from completing the next sentence. It was pointless.

"Yeah, on one he played a bad alien, but on the other one, he was an officer and he died."

"Here it comes," the Brit mumbled quietly.

"And he wasn't even wearing a red shirt!" the colonel laughed, as did everyone else, just to be polite.

"Hush, it's starting." Mary perched herself on the arm of the couch, right next to her husband.

It was the radioman's job to take notes…of course. And he sat there with a notebook and pen at the ready.

"Celui qui a écrit cet épisode devrait mourir!"

The radioman turned. "What did you say?"

"I said, whoever wrote this episode should die!" The Frenchman then unleashed a volley of vitriol in his native language. It came so fast and so hard that no one could understand him, not even the radioman, who was pretty much fluent in several languages.

"Well, I feel your pain," said the professor. "But wishing a writer actual physical harm? Surely you can't be serious."

"I am serious, and don't call me Shirley!" He poked the professor in the chest. (1)

The professor looked confused and plopped down on the sofa.

"Well, if you ask me, I think that's a bit of an overreaction," said the colonel, as he tried to calm down the offended party.

"The colonel's right. You shouldn't complain. At least you still have a character," said the radioman. "How do you think I feel watching this and seeing another radioman? With no explanation."

"Wasn't that the same actor who played Langenscheidt?" The Outside Man continued to help himself to the leftovers. He was done hoping for a brief cameo, and he decided to eat his way through the series. Everyone ignored him.

"Oh, c'mon. It wasn't that bad, was it?" Mary tried refilling the French chef's drink, but he pulled his glass away.

"Oui, oui. Bien sur. Look at me. What did they do? Faint at the sight of my own blood? I would never do that. And a chef would never do that, either. I volunteered to fight the Germans. A little blood never scared me."

"At one time or another, they've made all of us look ridiculous. Calm down, or you'll hyperventilate. Look at me. Did I go off after they had me bring in that woman who was working for the Gestapo?"

The Frenchman faced his friend and looked him directly in the chest. "Actually, as I recall, you sent the producers a nasty telegram."

"Never mind," the British man replied. "They are always dressing me up as a bird. How stupid can someone be to not be able to tell I'm a man? Whatever next?"

The Frenchman shrugged and began to calm down.

"At least they don't have you always messing up or losing things." The professor, who needed some chocolate, reached for the bowl of M&M's, only to find it empty. "Did you eat all of these?" he asked the Outside Man.

"Yes, what's it to ya?"

"Fellas, stop the arguing. We've all looked ridiculous over the six years. That's why we always take notes and send them in. Not that they ever listen. What do you have for today?" the colonel asked the radioman.

"As usual, I made a chart."

"I do that when we get the films over in England." The producers made a concession in order to get permission from the real heroes. They sent the films of the episodes to any former prisoners living in Europe.

"I'll read them off. The good, the bad, and the ugly." The radioman cleared his throat. "First the bad: Well, I'm with Frenchie, here. The blood thing was ridiculous. And why didn't they go for the medic as soon as they got into the tunnel? We know they had one, even if he only showed up once.

"The good: Newkirk's reaction to LeBeau being shot."

"Ah," the Brit said. "That was touching."

"They made it clear that penicillin was hard to come by," the radioman added.

"True." The colonel drained the liquid in his glass. "Continue."

"The ugly." The radioman sighed. "Again, they overuse the let's dress up a man as a woman and have no one notice trick. While I have no doubt that Hollywood could actually pull this off, on our show, they don't make an effort with their costume and make-up budget. Seriously."

"Like Star Trek. Why do you think all the aliens look like us," the colonel mentioned.

Mary shook her head at her husband. "Honestly, you're obsessed with that show. He watches the reruns all the time," she whispered to the professor.

"I do as well, Mary," he replied. "Speaking of ugly, the worst was that episode with the USO girls. I don't understand how they got away with that caper."

"I don't want to be stuck in prison camp for three years," the Brit parroted in a high-pitched voice. "Overly prescient, don't you think?"

"No, the worst was that giant balloon. I think the writers needed a vacation, not Colonel Hogan." The radioman stood up and refilled his drink.

The argument over the most idiotic script reached a crescendo until Mary silenced the kvetching with a loud whistle.

"Listen to all of you. It's just a TV show. And a funny one at that. No one is going to care. Besides, you all received a decent payment for permission to use your story. As did the rest of the prisoners. So I don't think you have any right to complain. I've been listening to this for almost six years. I'm going up to catch the rest of The Ed Sullivan Show." She shook her head and headed up the stairs with an empty platter, murmuring something about grown men behaving like children.

The six men quieted down for a few moments. They were all a bit ashamed, for it was true what the colonel's wife had said. The financial arrangements had helped all of them, the Kommandant and the Sergeant of the Guard, and the rank and file scattered all over the world. But within minutes, the conversation inevitably returned to their war stories, which inevitably led to how they were portrayed on the situation comedy.

Finally, after another hour of nitpicking, critiques and development of their own ideas, it was time to call it a night.

"I'll leave these notes with you." The radioman handed the colonel a few sheets of paper. "You can send it in with the rest."

"Will do" The colonel punched holes in the pages, and placed them in a large binder. "I understand it's too late for this season, but maybe, just maybe, they'll take our advice in time for the next one."

Alas, there would be no more seasons. However, their ideas and complaints were noticed by future generations, and these fans tried to put things right…on something called the World Wide Web.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> The quote from the contest is from the movie Galaxyquest. (said by Gwen)
> 
> (1) The don't call me Shirley quote is from the movie, Airplane. For some reason I can't fathom, that didn't make it into the final list of quotes picked for the challenge, lol (even though I suggested it) So I just decided to add it anyway.
> 
> I found a really cool website when I typed in the date of this episode. That's where I found the top songs in the USA for that week. In order: (#1 song) Knock Three Times, by Tony Orlando and Dawn. (#2) I Beg Your Pardon, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, Lynn Anderson and (#4) Black Magic Woman, Santana
> 
> the website is: takemebackdottobackslash (you know the drill)
> 
> episodes referred to in this story:
> 
> That's No Lady, That's My Spy, The Meister Spy (for some reason, the Outside Man didn't care for this one, although I find hilarious), No Names Please, Sticky Wicket Newkirk, and I Look Better in Basic Black.
> 
> I got this up in a real rush, as I haven't really been in the creative mood lately. (my dog passed away last month). So, if you see any flagrant errors in grammar, etc, please let me know so I can correct them. Thanks.


End file.
